Conversation during the meal turned to the food. Quinton flawlessly balanced eating and talking, encouraging me to try this or that on my plate in combination with something else. Most of it was pretty good, although the sauce tasted like flowers smelled. I scraped off as much of it as I could and nudged it to an isolated corner of my plate.
“Not a fan?” Quinton asked, laughing. “You’ll like this better. Try some of mine. Andouille sausage.” He stabbed a dripping piece of meat with his fork and gestured toward me.
“An-what?”
“Andouille. It’s like a beef sausage, but denser and made with chicken and more spices. Try it.”
I reached for his fork to take it.
He nudged my hand aside with his wrist and brought the fork to my mouth.
He’s feeding me.
I opened my mouth and wrapped my lips around the piece of meat -his meat- and pulled it off the tines and into my mouth. I chewed, but I didn’t even really taste it. My eyes were glued to Quinton as he watched me, his tongue sliding over his lower lip. Something about being fed was more intimate than any hand-holding and gentle caressing we’d done tonight. The omega in me knew what it meant. In some small way, by allowing him to feed me, to care for me in this way on top of everything else he’d done tonight, I had submitted to him.
Even as my dick throbbed, even as Quinton’s nostrils flared like a predator taking in his prey’s scent, I knew it wasn’t really a sexual thing. Not exactly. Related, correlated, definitely, but what it really meant, what I really felt, was that I had relaxed. I had let my guard down. I was allowing him in.
It was terrifying and exciting, and exhilarating, making my head spin. I swallowed hard, swallowed the sausage, and tried not to focus on the innuendos racing through my mind.
Too late.
“More?” he offered.
I nodded.
Quinton brought his fork to me. I lifted my hand and held his wrist as he fed me, felt the tight, strong cords of his tendons, the firm muscles beneath soft skin and a layer of silver hairs. As I chewed, he withdrew his fork and set it down on his plate.
His hand disappeared under the table. A moment later, a warm touch glanced over my knee and slid a short distance up my thigh. My toes curled, my groin tight. Quinton slid forward in his chair, slid his hand higher up my leg, trailing fire behind him.
I slid forward too and grabbed his hand under the table, my body acting of its own accord with me. I was too excited, too hot, throbbing with too much desire to control myself. Guiding his hand higher, I started to lower him to my crotch… my dick straining to meet him…
Allie appeared beside us with no warning. “How are my two favorite customers doing?”
Quinton leaned back so suddenly his chair let out a sharp, high creak, almost a cracking sound. His cheeks were flushed underneath the layer of stubble. “I bet you say that to all your guests,” he bluffed. He amazed me. Other than a slight, undetectable tremor in his voice, he gave no sign anything had happened.
I kept my hand under the table, adjusting myself to make sure no one could see how excited I’d gotten.
“Are we interested in dessert?” Quinton asked, looking at me. “Carrot cake?”
I shook my head. “No, thank you.”
“Then, Alouette, I suppose we’ll take the check.”
It was as if the magical moment hadn’t happened. My head spun and I didn’t know if the emptiness in my chest was a presence or an absence, relief or disappointment.
The check arrived and Quinton paid. Then, before I knew it, he had left a tip on the table and was guiding me down the staircase and outside onto the sidewalk. The summer air swelled around us the moment we left the shelter of the restaurant, smelling strongly of car exhaust.
Quinton stepped closer to me, the musk of his cologne replacing the sharper, less desirable odor. “I didn’t mean to press our boundaries in there.”
“I’m not sorry,” I whispered.
He smiled and placed his hand on my hip. “I’ve summoned a car to drive you home. I want to make sure you get there safe.”
It took me a second to realize what he meant. “This is it? It’s over?” My heart ached, my chest tightening. It felt as if my muscles pulled tight over my ribs, my body shrinking in on itself.
“Did you want more?” Quinton murmured. His other hand found its way to my waist. He pulled me closer to him, our stomachs and thighs pressed together. A hard bulge pressed against my thigh, and it wasn’t mine. Not just mine, anyway. “Wouldn’t you like to save something for next time?”
“Just a little more?” I begged. I pushed my dick against his leg, wanting him to feel my desperate, omega desire for his strong alpha body. “Please, Win?”
He flashed a handsome grin, his teeth white and even. My heart wrenched and I pushed harder on him, grinding. “Something to hold you over until our next date.”
Quinton slid his hands up to my lower back, tilted his head down, and kissed me. His lips caressed over mine, warm and sweet with wine, spiced from his meal. I clutched his back, my fingers spasming, and rose up onto my tiptoes in my borrowed dress shoes to press my lips more firmly on his. His tongue slid out, flicking my bottom lip, a brief promise before he pulled away and rubbed his nose on mine. His breath was hot and rapid against my lips, making them tingle, making the rest of my body buzz as if I was waking up from some deep numbness. “How was that?”
“More,” I urged.
He nudged his nose on mine and stroked his hands down to my hips again. I felt the individual press of each finger as if I wasn’t wearing any clothes at all. “Soon. Very soon.”
Headlights appeared at the end of the street, flashing in our direction. A black cab pulled up and idled right next to us on the sidewalk.
“Your ride’s here,” Quinton said. He dropped his hands from my waist and pulled out his wallet. I didn’t know if he meant for me to see or not, but in the light from the waiting cab, the restaurant, and from the streetlamp, I had an unobstructed view of the inside folds. I saw at least a dozen various credit and debit cards, and what seemed to me to be thousands of dollars in cash, wadded up into a huge bundle. Quinton pulled out what had to be at least half of the wad and held it out to me.
I practically jumped backward, startled. “I can’t take that!”
“Take it,” he urged. “Use it to pay for the cab when you get to your apartment, and buy yourself a suit you like for yourself. I want to take you out again. Is Saturday fine? I have tickets to a play that I think you would like.”
My hopes rose. Even though he’d said earlier that we were going to go out again, part of me hadn’t really, truly believed it until right now. “Yes!”
“Then, take it.” He pressed the money into my hands. “You deserve to look and feel amazing. You’ll be so much more confident in an outfit you’ve chosen for yourself.”
I took the money and tucked it away, not bothering to see how much it really was. The amount didn’t matter. The sentiment behind it did. It was so sweet, such a caring and kind gesture my sinuses burned with the pressure of oncoming tears. Blinking, I stepped closer to Quinton and held out my arms to hug him.
A look of surprise flickered across his face, and then he wrapped his strong arms around my shoulders and hugged me. I sank in against him, tucking my face to his shoulder, breathing in his scent. All too soon, the moment ended and he released me.
“Thank you for tonight, Theo. I can’t wait to see you again.”
“I-I…” I stammered, shook my head. “Thank you.”
“Message me through the app to let me know when you’ve arrived at your apartment,” he said. He stepped away a little, a clear signal that it was time to go. We couldn’t linger here forever, but still. It hurt to know soon I’d be all alone again. “I want to make sure you get there safely.”
“I will,” I promised. I forced myself to step closer to the cab, widening the distance between us. “Thank you, again. Really.”
“Thank
you, Theo.”
There was nothing else to say, nothing else to do. I opened the cab door and ducked inside. Shutting the door behind me, I peeked out at Quinton through the window. He waved. I lifted my hand to wave back, and the driver pulled away from the curb.
“You’re payin’ for the time I was waitin’,” the driver grunted. “Where to?”
I recited my address and pulled on my seatbelt. Safety first.
Just like that, it came back to me why I had done what I’d done tonight. I wasn’t on this app for myself. I wasn’t supposed to be enjoying myself. I was doing this for the baby.
Flirting with Quinton, enjoying myself, getting turned on… I could enjoy it, but I couldn’t let myself get used to it.
By the time fall arrives and we’d be able to get a garden table, I’ll be too pregnant to see him anymore.
I bit my lip.
My pocket buzzed, startling me. I grabbed for my phone and pulled it out, not sure what I was expecting to see. A message from Quinton, a reminder to tell him when I got home, or even a request to come back, that he’d changed his mind and wanted me now, tonight?
Neither. It was a text from Aaron.
“Quinton said I did great matching you two,” he had typed, using his typical immaculate grammar and spelling. “Care to tell me how it went? And can I give him your number to make chatting easier for you two?”
I nibbled my lip for a moment, and then sighed. What did I have to lose?
8
Quinton
I sat in my limo and leaned my cheek on the window, the glass cold from the blasting air-conditioning. Walking away from Theo had been surprisingly difficult, each step accompanied by an urge to turn back around and call out to the cab before he could get too far away from me. I felt drawn to him in a far stronger way than I already had been. It went beyond protectiveness, beyond a desire to introduce him to the finer things. It was him. A want, a need, a primal pull in his direction.
I hadn’t expected to be so into Theo, even though I’d been excited and optimistic about tonight. His newness and nervousness had transformed into eagerness and appreciation with a little encouragement, bringing out a funny and genuine side to his personality. He had opened up -no, he had blossomed over the course of the night, speaking his mind and becoming more physically affectionate and flirtatious. God, what a turn-on his slow and experimental touches had been, building up to the fondling under the table. My cock was still hard from that experience and was stiffening again just thinking about it.
The kiss, though, the kiss had been on another level entirely. So brief, so light, so powerful. I hadn’t wanted to stop, and I might not have been able to if I hadn’t remembered at the last second the dewy softness of his eyes when I’d given him a bite from my fork. The utter acceptance at such a small gesture… He’d do anything I wanted.
And that wasn’t what I wanted.
I’d claimed many omegas. I’d slept with many men, each one more eager than the last. I wanted Theo to be different.
I wanted him to be the first one to make that final move. I wanted him to experience the wonderful and beautiful power that came with realizing he could do that. Every alpha had that moment, that epiphany that this was what made them alpha: the ability to take. Every rich man had that moment too, in a different way. I wanted Theo to take part in that, just like I’d given him his first taste of caviar, his first real suit, his first glimpse of upper-class life.
Sighing, I lifted my hand to touch my lips, remembering the way Theo tasted, like herbs and youth. What a night.
I picked up my phone and opened up my messages to Aaron. I’d texted him shortly before I left to wait for Theo at the Lincoln Center, letting him know that I would tell him how things went after the date. He’d be waiting for a response. I tapped out a short summary of how the night had gone and made sure to mention we’d connected amazingly, and had gone to dinner together after the ballet. The process took longer than it probably should have. My thumbs were too big for these damned tiny smartphones.
That’s an idea.
I sent my first text to Aaron and then followed up with another one, asking if I could have Theo’s number. I wouldn’t have to use the app to talk to him, which meant less annoying typing, with the added bonus of being able to call him and hear his voice whenever I wanted.
Aaron replied several minutes later, the light of my phone screen stirring me from a near-doze. He expressed enthusiasm about the positive results and wanted to know more later. He also included Theo’s number, saying he’d asked and Theo gave the go-ahead.
I input the new number into my phone and searched for a contact photo among the several I’d been sent by Aaron when he first confirmed I had a date lined up. Poor Theo looked as he had when I first met him tonight, nervous and uncertain.
I paused as I reached the shirtless picture, his cheeks blushing pink and his eyes flicked coyly to the side. His smooth stomach captivated me, the lines of his abs defined, yet soft. Subtle. If I touched him, stroking his stomach, would he be soft or firm? I closed my eyes, imagining his smooth skin and the soft, delicate hairs, turning wiry as I worked my way downward underneath his pants.
“Sir?” The driver’s voice came over the intercom. “We’ve arrived.”
I opened my eyes and reached out to press the button to respond. “Yes, I see. Thank you.”
I stepped out of the limo and crossed the sidewalk, heading up inside the building to my penthouse on the top floor. I thrust the door shut behind me and staggered over to the couch, my erection making it difficult for me to walk. I flopped down and pulled out my phone again, opening up a new message to Theo. I had no idea what I was going to say to him, but I needed to say something. For him and for myself, I still didn’t want this night to end.
I frowned, debating for a moment, and then sent him a text asking if he had gotten home safely.
His response came after a few seconds, the promptness startling until I saw what he had sent: not a text, but a picture taken from a high angle, showing his chest and all the way down to his feet as he reclined in what appeared to be a bed. My breath caught in my throat, my cock pounding. His chest was bare, his nipples dark and pointed. A thatch of soft golden curls sprouted from between his pecs, mirrored below his navel, leading down even further to the soft shadow of his inner thigh. A strategic length of blanket hid his lap from sight, concealing what I really wanted to see.
This was the initiative I had wanted him to show. Even if it was over text, so be it.
I called his number. While the phone dialed and rang, I used my free hand to push my suit jacket off my shoulders. I was hot. But why stop with my shirt? I unbuckled my belt and started to shove my pants down when the ringing in my ear cut off without warning.
“Win!” Theo said, breathless. “Did you like the picture?”
“If I was there with you, you wouldn’t even be wearing that blanket.” I lowered my voice. “You might not even have made it to bed.”
He made a soft sound, almost a moan. “It’s a really small apartment.”
I chuckled. “Doesn’t matter.” I pushed my suit pants down the rest of the way, and placed my hand over the bulge in my boxers. I felt myself throb, the heat of my desire pouring through the thin fabric.
“What… um… what are you wearing?” He giggled, sounding uncertain, but willing. This seemed like it might be something else he didn’t have experience with.
I’ll show you how to do this, too.
“More than I want to,” I rumbled. “I wish I was with you right now, to give me a reason to be undressed. I want to feel your skin on mine.”
“Oh,” he breathed. I heard rustling, imagined him pushing away the covers to reveal his erection. “What would you do to me if you were here?”
“I’d kiss you again. The way I wanted to kiss you when the lights went on after the play was over. When you were glaring at me so cutely.” I closed my eyes and leaned back, relaxing into the couch cushions. My hand r
oamed over my cock, stroking, caressing, teasing myself with light little rubs like what I imagined Theo would do to me. Tentative, building confidence. “You were embarrassed and I wanted to kiss you until you weren’t anymore.”
“I wanted to kiss you, too,” he whispered. “I was scared to push, at first. And then I realized you wanted me like I wanted you. Do you want to come over?”
“We have time for that,” I murmured, “but later. I want to savor this time with you. I don’t want to rush it.”
I wanted to jump on the chance to go over to him, but I knew that wasn’t the right way to do this. As willing as he was, he was still new and uncertain. Doing this, sharing this, coming closer together while we remained apart, would let us explore without pressure. When we finally had sex, I wanted him to be confident and capable, assured of his own desirability.
For now, this was enough.
I kept rubbing myself and moaned into the phone. “Theo, talk to me. Tell me what you’re doing.”
“I’m touching it.”
“Touching what?” I encouraged. “Tell me. Talk dirty to me.”
I heard him swallow, could imagine his thoughts racing.
“I’m naked,” he began. “I’m leaning back in bed. There’s a pillow behind me.”
“Are you comfortable?”
“Yes. No. I’m horny. I’m so fucking horny. I’m touching my dick. Are you?”
I smiled and pressed my palm down against myself, causing a spasm to go through my body. “Do you want me to?”
“Yes!”
“I still have my underwear on,” I told him. I slid my fingers underneath the waistband, lifted up. “They’re blue. Here, I’ve got my hand around my cock. Fuck, I’m so hot!” I shuddered, my head tossing back as my fingers brushed over the rigid length of my shaft. “I’m so hard. My cock is so hard for you.”
Sweet Success: East Coast Sugar Daddies: Book 2 Page 8
